


I Should Have a Say

by Peril_in_Peace



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Learning How to Relationship, Romance, post-movie Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 01:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14631218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peril_in_Peace/pseuds/Peril_in_Peace
Summary: A detailed account of Gamora and Peter's first kiss... and the fight immediately following it.





	I Should Have a Say

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by post Infinity War twitter conversation involving James Gunn implying that Peter and Gamora probably kissed for the first time shortly after (if not the night of) Yondu's funeral.

“Hi.”

Peter looked down at the little music player in his hands, unraveling the cord from around his finger, where he’d been twisting and untwisting it for probably a good hour, since the last of the Ravagers ships had jumped away.

“Hey,” he answered quietly. He didn’t look up, instead letting her stop behind him. His shoulder warmed a bit, like her hand was hovering over it without touching.

He wrapped the cord around his index finger again, knuckle to knuckle, until his fingertip went white and numb. He let go of the cord and watched it loosen on its own, watched the blood flow back and his whole finger plump back up and change color, going a brighter pink, even, than it should be.

Except around the rough callus, the odd groove worn into his finger by so many trigger pulls. How many thousands… millions… since those first ones, when he was twelve… There, the blood rush didn’t seem to show, the thick, hardened layer betraying no distress whatsoever.

Peter closed his eyes and held his breath and started wrapping the cord again.

Gamora walked around the old… couch? Peter supposed that was the closest name for the ratty piece of falling apart furniture he’d pulled over to the bank of portholes along the bulkhead. It’d been in the officer’s mess or ”spot for you assholes Cap’n ain’t too pissed at” for as long as he could remember.

It still smelled exactly how he remembered, too. Which was awful.

But. Made him feel things and… maybe remember things… remember things a little bit differently. And that maybe wasn’t so bad.

Maybe.

His feet were propped up on the ledge beneath one of the larger portholes, blocking her way. Gamora nudged his legs lightly with her knee, and he pulled them up so she could pass.

She didn’t sit down beside him. He expected her to. But instead, she leaned up against the bulkhead, crossing her arms. She watched him for a few minutes, looping the earbud cord around his finger and letting it unravel.

“Peter,” she said finally. He swallowed and worked his tongue around a little in his parched mouth.

“Yeah.”

He could feel her looking at him. Pictured her face as she tried to decide what to say. Made a mental bet with himself, whether or not she’d go with ‘ _are you okay?’_ and tried to work out whether he’d be irritated or touched.

After a minute, it was just the softest of sighs, and Peter barely heard it.

“You want to be alone,” she said, and moved to leave.

He didn’t move his legs. Gamora looked at him and he finally glanced up. Peter sighed and sat up straight, dropping his bare feet to the floor and leaning forward.

Gamora made to slip past him, but without thinking, he grabbed her hand. He felt her tense, and for just a _second_ , his brain tried to warn him about knives to throats… but his only impulse was to tighten his grip.

“I really don’t,” he said.

His face must have been really something. The way she looked back at him…

Peter let go of her hand, feeling a drop in his chest, like he’d just shot her puppy or something. He made himself smile, look at her.

“It’s okay. You don--”

He’d been numb; his mind a blank, exhausted _nothing_ staring out a window.

And then he felt _everything_. Too much.

His eyes closed and her lips weren’t soft and pliant, like he’d sometimes imagined. They were insistent, strong. _Athletic._ Parting his, and then her tongue...

Peter felt her shift onto his lap, twist and grab his arm. He felt her nails, short but digging into his bicep as she clutched his sleeve.

His hands… he almost touched her. But then he might wake up from whatever this was?

She gasped, so softly, but he _felt_ it against his chest, and without a thought, his hands moved; his left pulling her knees closer, his right finding the ends of her hair, fingers spreading between her shoulder blades.

And then he tasted salt on his lips and pulled away, sure he had started crying again, somehow.

Her eyes were closed, wet lashes catching the light from the dim glow of the grimy chemical bulbs hanging overhead.  

“Gamora,” he whispered. He brought his hand around… her hair was starting to fall across her face, and she didn’t seem to notice or care. She opened her eyes and a tear fell, slowly.

He almost caught it, drawing his finger to her cheek, before she grabbed his wrist and stopped him short. Peter frowned and watched it fall.

“What…” he started, not even sure what he wanted to say. Gamora shook her head and pushed against his shoulder, levering herself up. “Hey, you can’t just--”

She let go of his wrist and moved away from him, backing up against the bulkhead and sliding along it past his knees. Peter got up to follow, and reflexively grabbed for her arm.

Gamora spun, sweeping his feet out from under him in a move he couldn’t even _see_ , let alone stop. The back of Peter’s head cracked against the metal deck in front of the couch and everything went white for a second as the air was knocked out of his lungs mid-breath.

“Ow” sounded different when it was gasped in instead of groaned out.

He blinked a couple times, and then Gamora was there, her face filling up his clearing vision. She was kneeling, one of his legs between hers, and resting her weight on one arm to keep a light touch on his chest with the other.

“You know better, Peter,” she whispered, looking at his lips instead of his eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” he sighed.

“I'm sorry.”

He smiled. “Don't be.”

Her hand on his chest lifted hesitantly, then her nails dragged into a grip on the front of his shirt, her fist grinding into his sternum with just enough weight to be a little uncomfortable. He wrapped his hand around hers.

“Not for this,” she said, looking around at the floor around them.

He squinted up at her, lifting his head. “What?”

There was a flash of… something… across her face, that she shoved away so fast he didn’t have time to figure out what it was.

She looked down at their hands on his chest, and shifted her fingers, twining them together. She pulled, and he smirked, letting her help him sit up, only to be caught by her other hand grazing the back of his neck.

Gamora brought her face close and anything Peter thought he was going to say just disappeared, erased like chalk on a blackboard.

This time, it was soft. Her--their lips, fluid and molding to each other in slow, lazy pulses. Peter wanted to hold her, but he’d locked his arms out behind him; and now he seemed to hold them both up as her hand came up to his jaw.

Finally, he had to come up for air. He grinned as he did, a dumb, sappy look, he was pretty sure. Gamora smiled and sat back,.

“You look happy,” she said.

“Well… _yeah…_ ”

Gamora nodded. “That’s good,” she said something like relief in her voice.

Peter tilted his head, sitting up and turning his back against the bottom of the couch. “But…  you too, though, right? You looked upset before…”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

He frowned. “It _does_ matter.”

“No,” she corrected. “Getting… emotional would have only made things worse… I--”

“Made things…” Peter trailed off, then closed his eyes, letting his head fall the to front of the seat cushions. He replayed the last few minutes in his head and groaned softly.

“I was sad…” he said carefully. “And you were trying to make me feel better.”

“Of course, I wanted you to feel better,” she answered. Peter smiled sadly, putting the pieces together.

“You knew I had a thing for you, and you figured a little action would take my mind off things… but… what, had some regrets? Was that the deal with the waterworks? Second thoughts? Or was that... what you said on the bridge, was that…” he winced and tried to say it in a way that didn’t sound terrible. “Just to... make me feel better, too?”

Peter lifted his head to look at her when she didn’t respond, then immediately closed his eyes again at her stricken expression.

“Don’t get me wrong, Gamora… you’re a good friend. My best friend… and I… you know, I get it… And… thanks. For trying… but… working me like that… honestly, you did. You made things worse.”

He got to his knees and pushed himself up to standing. He shuffled past her, still sitting motionless on the floor, and headed for the door.

“Making someone _feel better_ is not _working_ them.” Gamora said after him, just loudly enough for him to hear.  

“Uh. Actually, yeah. _Manipulating_ somebody into feeling how you think they should feel… Yeah, it kinda is.” Peter turned and held his hands out, presenting the simple facts of the statement into evidence.

“It’s not how I _think_ you should feel--”

“What if I don’t _want_ to feel better?”

“Why wouldn’t you want--”

Peter raised an eyebrow and pointed at her. “Doesn’t matter. Not up to you.”

“Why isn’t it up to me?” Gamora said, standing up quickly. Her eyes were angry, but also genuinely confused in a way that disarmed Peter and left him fighting to keep up his momentum.

“Why the hell _would_ it be?” Peter was almost shouting.

She bit her lip and scowled. “That’s mean, Peter.”

“ _Mean_ ? _I’m_ being mean.”

“Yes!” Her hands flew up, then clenched into fists as she forced them back down and took a deep breath.

“Don’t…” she started again, softly, eyes low. “Don’t you _get_ a say… about how people feel…?” That look was back. That _something_ Peter couldn’t quite identify.

Seeing it now… he wanted to give her the certainty her eyes were looking for. Her lips, straight and tight, were holding something back that she needed to say, but it was like she didn’t actually know how to form the words.

His face fell and his arms dropped. Peter took a step forward. “What people?” he whispered.

Gamora’s jaw clenched and he could see her resisting the urge to turn away. “People you care about. You… you should get a _say_ …”

Peter swallowed and took another step closer, slowly reaching his hand out to take one of hers. He ran his thumb over the top of her hand, just grazing her skin until she finally loosened her fist and let him work his fingers into her palm.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, you should.” He squeezed her hand, and looked down, before smiling to himself. “You care about me?”

“I _told_ you that, didn’t I?” Gamora raised her eyebrows, her face about as open as he’d ever seen it. Peter winced.

“Well, no. Not in so many words.”

“Then you are an idiot, Peter.” She frowned. “ _You’re_ the one with all of that nonsense about _unspoken_ things…”

Peter shrugged and sighed. “I…” He shifted, and looked at her. That unnerving expression of doubt and disquiet was thankfully gone. The slight irritation was much more familiar.

“I’m gonna just make it really clear, then, okay?” Looking her in the eye was far harder than it should have been. But when he did, something in him got all still and quiet, like he could hear his own heartbeat.

“I care about you,” he said.

He watched her throat move as she swallowed. Peter took a deep breath. “I mean, even though _caring_ sounds like I’m a goddamn _child_ … really, I… Well, Mantis said it… I’m pretty much in _love_ with you, but I’m not stupid enough to _say_ that. I mean… _yet_.”

“You just did, Peter.” She was smiling at least.

He closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath then let it out. “Yeah, I know. I guess I am that stupid. Are you freaked out?”

She shook her head.

“Why were you…” Peter reached up and touched her face, tracing where her tears had been with his fingers. He tried to smile. “You know… emotional, then? Before.”

Gamora paused, her muscles literally hitching in hesitation. Then she wrapped her arms around Peter, clasping her hands behind his back.

“Gamora?” he breathed. He held her, as she rested her head with an ear to his chest.

“We… buried Yondu today,” she said. “It could have just as easily been you.”

Peter closed his eyes and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “I’m so sorry. God, I’m so sorry.”

They stood like that. And Peter’s mind was blank again, thinking about nothing but the feeling of her body in his arms, the tickle of her hair against his nose.

He felt her huff a sigh, almost like a laugh.

“You’re sad again,” Gamora said, defeated.

“What are you talking about?” He smiled and took a deep breath. "I feel a lot better.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Hit me up](https://perilinpeace.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr


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